Orphans, or Might as Well Be
by BILLYKAPLAN666
Summary: Bryan Wilks/James Hargrave. .:. After Grayditch is attacked, Bryan goes to live with his cousin - and meets the only boy his age in Rivet City: James Hargrave. He isn't the easiest to get along with, but you can't choose your friends in the apocalypse. .:. Eventual M/M teenage romance.


"Gonna be alright traveling out there by yourself, kid?"

"Yeah- yeah, I'll be fine," Bryan nodded. "You've already done enough."

"Right. See you, then."

Just like that, she was gone. Bryan Wilks was alone again - but it was okay now. Barely two days ago, he'd gone screaming in a meaningless direction in the hopes that someone would help him - and she had. It was strange how lucky (and even relieved) he could feel, in such a situation. In a short time he had gone from a boy with a father and a few neighbors to a run-of-the-mill orphan who was completely - at least for the time being - _alone_. He did, however, have a friend. It was only after he heard the door close that he realized he had never gotten her name. He knew it didn't matter, but deep down, it would ache at him. All he could call her was 'that lady who saved me'.

Bryan took a long, deep, deserved breath. He had a lot to do, but he was exhausted. Should he sleep first? Were the 'wastes' safer or more dangerous at night? It didn't matter, he decided - he didn't want to lose any more time as it was. He could sleep when he got to Rivet City.

Small fingers picked at themselves as matching legs ascended old stairs. He made his way to his room and moved his knapsack from the corner to his bed. He had only a few things: a single clean shirt; a broken piece of 'shell' (that's what his father had called it, but it didn't look like it belonged in a gun or to a Mirelurk) that had been found near a river; his father's .32 pistol (but he put that in his belt) and the bullets that went with it; finally, as many boxes of Sugar Bombs, Cram, InstaMash and bottles of water as he could fit. He even added a bottle of his father's whiskey, though he didn't quite know why.

He was ready. Bryan slung the pack over his shoulder and descended the stairs for the last time. He'd buried his father... he'd gotten all his things... he had nothing left to take care of.

He was ready.

Bryan missed the sun. Everything outside was dark, as if a giant shadow had been cast over the earth, or at least over Grayditch. With a gun in his belt, the knapsack on his back, and a bottle of water in hand, all he needed was the will to get to Rivet City. He had a hand-drawn map along with instructions (drawn and written by The Lady) on the inside cover of an old book. He'd studied it since she made it for him, and was certain he wouldn't need to pull it from his bag, but it was there if he needed it.

He turned and began his journey. By the look of the sky, night was at its peak. If he didn't stop for any breaks... The Lady said it'd only take him until morning, or a little after. Bryan wondered if he could walk that far.

His legs had a good energy in them, though, when he got to the end of the street. His head turned to take a final look at his old home, then he turned and didn't look back until it was out of sight.

* * *

How was it so hot? The sun wasn't even out; the world was still in a shadow. Bryan panted hard as he scaled a broken concrete bridge, then found himself overlooking a murky green river. He huffed, looking down at his map again, and tried to keep calm as he went over the path in his mind. He wished The Lady had been able to draw all the bodies of water... or given him something like a maze. So far he was having the hardest time just climbing the hills of rubble without falling back down - his hands were already scraped and tender with pain. He looked down at his map after turning all around. He wasn't even halfway to Rivet City.

After pushing it down into his pack again, the eight-year-old continued his venture only to happen upon a very wide-open road blocked off on the sides by high walls of concrete. They used to drive cars on these, his father had told him, back when the cars worked. A car would come in handy now; Bryan didn't want to walk anymore.

Suddenly he heard a gunshot. He'd heard so many when The Lady killed all those Fuckin' Ants for him, so he knew how it sounded. Bryan Wilks froze where he stood, his heart having dipped in its beats, leaving him breathless for a moment. He looked around, and just as he noticed a silhouetted figure, then another, far from him - he heard more spurts of gunfire and saw what looked like sparks in the distance. A moment later, Bryan found himself in the backseat of one of those cars that didn't work anymore, putting both his hands over his head and lying uncomfortably over his knapsack on the floor. If they found him, they'd have to reach for him before they found his stuff. He didn't know why he'd rather die than be robbed... He just would.

He was silent, but his breath was so heavy, it was hard for him to hear anything else. After concentrating hard, he decided someone was definitely yelling. They seemed to be having a good time shooting at whatever they were killing. Bryan was glad it wasn't him.

Minutes passed. It had to be at least ten before Bryan crawled to the seat, peeking up out of the window to see if it was safe to, at least, run away.

He had never been so scared in his life.

There was no movement. He studied each inch of the outside world. He made sure there wasn't a soul in sight before reversing himself from inside the car. The moment his feet were on the ground, Bryan started to creep against the rusted metal, glancing around the next visible car - making sure it was clear to start walking again. He had crawled just barely away from the shield of the car before he heard that voice. It seemed to be muttering to itself. The boy didn't wait to hear what it was saying, though, because he peeled away from his cover and ran as fast as he could down the road, feet hitting the concrete so hard it hurt with every step.

Bryan heard shouting behind him and more gunfire, then realized that he was being shot at. He would've screamed if he hadn't been so focused on getting away; his feet were barely touching the ground now, he was running so fast.

No, he had never, ever been so scared in his entire life.

* * *

Bryan couldn't walk anymore. The sun was up and it made him even hotter than before. It was almost pitiful how slow he was walking... dragging his feet along the ground... crying silently to himself... threatening to collapse the closer he got to his next 'checkpoint'.

After his adrenaline rush, he had no energy to spare. He was so close now - he stared at the book in his trembling hands, then looked up to see the statue in the distance that was a landmark according to The Lady. Then he saw it: a sign on a metal fort-like structure that read, "Rivet City".

He stopped. He had been so close to the giant ship and hadn't noticed it through exhausted tears. This was it. This was Rivet City. He suddenly had a burst of energy - nothing particularly notable, but it was enough to help him ascend the stairs. He climbed up and up, then finally halted when he found himself at the top, blinking at the metal box that spoke.

"Welcome to Rivet City," it said. "Wait for the bridge."

Bryan watched the walkway turn and connect to the structure he was on. Hesitantly, he stepped onto it, testing its stability, before dragging his feet across. He had, of course, wiped his cheeks and stopped crying - thankfully so, because there was a man approaching now. He had a strange helmet on that protected his face.

Everything seemed like a dream. Maybe it was because he was so exhausted and hot, but everything seemed like a dream.

"Hey, kid," he greeted sympathetically. "You the one Vera's expecting? Her cousin, or something? Here, c'mon, I'll take you to her."

* * *

Bryan had never slept so long or well in his entire life.


End file.
